


The Mating Habits of Villains

by Trista_zevkia



Series: Platonic [6]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Superman (Comics), Superman - All Media Types, Superman/Batman (Comics), World's Finest (Comics)
Genre: Anniversary, First Time Bottoming, M/M, Platonic Sex, Sex Pollen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-04
Updated: 2011-11-04
Packaged: 2017-10-26 22:10:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/288438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trista_zevkia/pseuds/Trista_zevkia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He's ready for Joker gas. Please, give him the Joker gas!</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Mating Habits of Villains

**Author's Note:**

> [Quiltdiva](http://quiltdiva.livejournal.com/) says she likes Harley Quinn and a bit of jealousy. This is not what she had in mind.

“Why is the Joker in Metropolis?”

Superman’s question only earned him a glare from shadow on the _Planet’s_ roof. Under a giant, golden, glowing, spinning model of the planet. How did Batman find a shadow to hide in? 

“Right. If you could figure out how the clown’s mind works, you would have stopped him years ago. So where do you suggest we start looking?” 

“Listen for screams that turn into laughter.” 

Superman let himself sigh, knowing Batman would hear it no matter how hard he repressed it. “You know, I think you just want me to listen to my city, so you don’t have to talk to me while we hang out.” 

“How’s the weather, three feet and six inches to my left?” 

“Ha, and I repeat, ha. Joke’s on you though, I can listen to the city and you. Read any good books lately?” 

“I was rereading the Crime Classification Manuel, reviewing the fourth major category of homicides, namely group cause. Not a major reason for homicide in Gotham, as most of the killers there seem to be out for themselves.” 

“Right.” Clark paused, trying to think of something better to say. “I thought the last Harry Potter book was far too long. First two hundred pages could have been summed up. ‘They wandered the woods for four months, getting depressed.’ What do you think?” 

“Harold Potter, did two years for B  & E? I didn’t know he wrote books.” 

“Are you kidding?” When no response came from the shadow, Clark had to add. “Seriously, I can’t tell if that was a joke or not.” 

“Prison would be a great place to write, you’d have plenty of time and most people in there wouldn’t care about books.” 

“Harry Potter was the character, not the writer. Wait, I hear screaming. House fire, I’ll be back.” Clark dashed off and tried not to notice Bruce pulling out his equipment. It could get annoying, thinking about how easily you were replaced by a bit of electronic equipment. 

Batman pulled out the audio receiver with the collapsible dish and listened for signs of the Joker. The clown had broken out of Arkham and headed straight for Metropolis, not even pausing to kill the people who saw him go. He’d killed two for their car, and a gas station attendant when he got gas, and that video footage was something to see. Not the murder, as Joker did that all the time, but the sight of him standing at the pump and waiting for his tank to fill. It was just wrong, seeing the Joker do something so normal. 

A noise got Batman’s attention, a scream, and he waited. It grated his nerves to wait, instead of rushing in to fix the cause, but the Joker was more important than a mugging. Then Batman heard the laughter and started moving, dropping the receiver and heading south. As he got closer, the noise got louder, panicked screams turning to hysterical laughter. Batman stopped on the roof of the aquarium, where some fundraiser was being held. Other than that one attempt to patent fish, Joker didn’t really care about them, so why was he here? 

Applying a nose piece that would filter out the old versions of Joker gas, Batman put a microphone on the skylight and looked for his foe. The crowd of laughing civilians wandered about, not interacting with anybody in particular. Joker was wearing a purple tuxedo with a green shirt and a yellow cummerbund. Quinn was facing him in a slinky, sparkly green dress, her belled hat mocking the formal occasion. Her black, white and red purse probably had more material than the dress, and was sporting a few suspicious lumps. 

“I left Arkham without a plan to kill Batman, I brought you to a fancy party, what more do you want from me?” 

“I want respect as an evil temptress, Mr. J! And not having Batman thrown in my face every other killing.” 

Batman reached up, and rubbed at the spot under his eyebrows, just where his mask ended. Joker and Harley Quinn were in the middle of a domestic squabble. Fights between couples made hardened career cops pull their tasers before they even entered the house. This was the kind of situation that spiraled out of control with normal people who wouldn’t hurt a fly. And either Quinn or Joker could kill a bystander when in a good mood. No hope for it, as there were a lot of civilians down there, he’d have to go down. 

Batman set an explosive on the thick glass, and timed it so he would crash through just as it exploded. Dramatic entrance to get everyone’s attention, and maybe Joker and Quinn would team up to attack him. And that was his hopeful thought as he dropped through the shattering skylight, aiming for the Joker. The reaction was not what he’d been hoping for. Served him right for hoping. 

“Everything is about Batman with you!” Harley was shouting even as Joker rolled away from a falling Batman. “You even invited Batman on our anniversary date!” 

“What anniversary?” Joker was an insane killer with a genius IQ, but he was still a guy. 

With a shrill cry of outrage, Quinn pointed her gun at Joker and pulled the trigger. 

Batman slammed into Joker, trying to take the most dangerous foe out of the equation first. Instead, they both got pelted with the gas bullets from Quinn’s gun. Joker was laughing as he struggled to free himself from Batman. 

“My laughing gas won’t effect me, Harley!” 

“No, but that’s not yours.” Quinn was very smug when she said this, heels clacking as she walked away. 

Joker looked confused for a second, until he turned to look at Batman, who had him pinned on the floor. Batman held Joker’s hands over his head and zip tied them together. Joker picked his head up, but wasn’t close enough to head butt Batman in a meaningful way, so Batman ignored him. Until Joker kissed him. 

Several things darted through Batman’s mind, such as knowing that Joker could be effected the same way as normal humans. Clearly, this wasn’t laughing gas but Batman didn’t need to ask whose gas it was. Quinn only had so many friends with chemical expertise. What stuck in Batman’s mind though, was that the nose filters he’d brought were to filter out particles of ten microns or larger. Ivy’s lust dust was much smaller than that. The filters meant it took longer to affect Batman, but he was still kissing the Joker back. 

“What in the world?” The exasperated, expletive free comment was the sweet sound of a rescue. Superman broke apart the kiss and Batman shot a grapple at the roof. As he left, the Joker screamed at him. 

“What anniversary?” 

Another grapple got Batman off the roof, heading back toward the _Planet_. Sirens and flashing lights were moving in on the aquarium, so he felt it was better for Superman to deal with the clean-up, as Batman was compromised. Landing back on the _Planet_ , Batman found his equipment was still there and started to break it down. 

Except, the firm stalk of the microphone slid in and out of the hole that was the base of the satellite, in and out. He was bigger than the microphone, and Clark was smaller than the hole, but with a little lube he could make it work. Pushing in, sliding out, digging for that one spot that made everything click. 

“What…?”

Batman startled out of his thoughts by the question, and Superman saw it. 

Instincts screaming that this was trouble, Clark carefully stood next to his friend. “Bruce, what happened back there?” 

“Quinn and Joker, domestic fight, she shot him with Ivy’s contribution to villain science.” 

“That’s why he kissed you?” 

“Yes. And listen up Clark, because I’m only going to say this once.” 

Clark perked up with interest, as Bruce stood and looked him in the eye. 

“Thank you for saving me.” 

Clark looked like he’d been hit by a train. Bruce thought the expression matched the photo from last week’s train incident anyway. Hair perfect, but wide eyes and open mouth. Not quite jaw dropping surprise, more like lips parted and waiting for some tongue action. Clark tasted good, Bruce knew that, like he knew Clark smelled of something wonderful and unnamable that Bruce thought of as sunshine. Would Clark be mad if Bruce kissed him, here on the rooftop of his workplace? 

“Bruce, why are you looking at me like that?” 

Bruce forced his eyes away and finally remembered to pull the plugs from his nose. “No reason.” 

“Ivy’s pollen is still affecting you!” 

“I didn’t bring antidotes for her, I was chasing the Joker. Quinn wasn’t even supposed to be with him.” 

“No offense meant, you’re still the king of planning ahead. Can I help you with anything?” 

Was it Bruce’s lust fuelled imagination, or did that question sound hopeful? “Twenty minutes in your bathroom?” 

“What?” 

“I can get these urges and images out of my head before I head home.” 

“Batman, would I ever send someone in to face a situation alone when I could be there to assist?” 

Bruce grabbed a bit of red cape, where it tucked into the top of the suit, and pulled. “Another crack like that and I’ll take you up on it.” 

Clark looked thoughtful and nodded, until Bruce released him. Scooping Bruce into his arms, Clark made all due speed to his apartment, in the balcony, across the living room and down the hall to drop Bruce on his bed. 

“Since I rescued you, can I ask something of you?” 

Bruce paused in removing his cape to glare at Clark. Hoping this would be about not using the good towels to wipe up with, Bruce nodded as he resumed removing the bare essentials to take care of his blood flow problem. Cape, because it was hard to clean, boots had to come off to get the pants off, the gloves were debatable though. Had just enough leather in them to make a solo session interesting. Looking up from kicking off his boots, Bruce wondered what Clark was waiting on. 

“What do you want for your reward, Clark?” 

Clark shed his uniform as he covered the space from the door to the bed, and stopped an inch short of touching Bruce. “I want you to top.” 

Bruce tore off his pants and chest armor, deciding this was Ivy’s most potent pollen yet. “Got lube, boy scout?” 

A bottle was shoved into Bruce’s hand, so he hoped it was lube. “You done this before?” 

“No.” Clark’s voice was small, hesitant, but Bruce couldn’t ask if Clark was sure he wanted to do this. 

“Face down, easiest for first timers.” Bruce turned and shoved, and Clark went willingly. Bruce slicked himself and tried not to think about what was being offered to him. He was the playboy, experienced in the ways of decadence. How embarrassing would it be to finish without even touching Clark? Wet fingers met a locked opening, and Bruce had to find words. “Relax Clark, or you’ll snap my fingers off.” 

Some teasing traces along the crack, massages on the ass cheeks, and Bruce tried again. Clark slowly accepted him in, fighting to stay relaxed in amidst all his nervousness. The second finger was more of a challenge, and Bruce thought his brain cells were leaking out with his drops of precum. Crooking a finger, Bruce aimed for where he thought the prostate should be. No response, so he adjusted his hand and tried again. 

This time, Clark’s back rolled up until he was kneeling, head staring at the ceiling. Bruce grinned and started rubbing his finger across that spot. Just when it was tiring out his finger to work at such an angle, Clark made a strange noise. His cum splattered across his headboard and wall, before Clark slowly collapsed onto his stomach. Bruce added a third finger into the relaxed body, stretching and twisting. When Clark reached a hand back, clutching at the air behind him, Bruce took that as a sign. 

“Stay relaxed, I’ll work out Ivy’s pollen before you know it.” Bruce was a man of action, and aligned his cock with Clark’s hole. 

Once in, he marveled at how easily Clark had taken him, all the way in. A swallow against the possibility of finishing right now, and Bruce pulled out, to slide back in. Feeling tightness and warmth as he moved, only thinking that it was Clark under him, accepting him, pushing back to feel him deeper inside, and grabbing Bruce’s ass to encourage him. Bruce wanted to scream, but that wasn’t him, so he grunted as he came inside Clark. 

Once the white hot orgasm had left him, Bruce found he was snuggled up to a very smug looking Clark. “What?” 

“I rescued you, I saved your butt, and you had to say thank you.” 

He was Batman, the world’s greatest detective and the JL’s smartest smart ass, but when Clark looked at him like that he could only think of one thing to say. “Shut up.” 

sB _Sb_ Bs


End file.
